Chance meeting
by Sophia Banks
Summary: The first time Sophia Banks ever met her hero Sherlock Holmes was the first time she ever stepped into 221B. Unfortunately she's not given much time to fangirl over Sherlock before the great Detective is poisoned, and the only person available to catch the attempted murderer is the person Sophia hates the most- Mycroft Holmes.


The first time I met Mycroft Holmes I was fourteen years old and it was the first time I stepped into 221B Baker Street.

One of my best friends Corry knew Doctor John Watson (though she never told me how they met) and whilst John was away for the week she was to bring some groceries to 221B for Sherlock. I am finding it hard to describe the elation I felt when she asked me if I wanted to go with her, but I'm pretty sure the hug I gave her was one that nearly cracked all of her ribs.

I feel that now I should tell you, I was a bit of a Sherlock Holmes Fangirl...Ok, I was a lot of a Sherlock Holmes Fangirl!

I read everything in Dr. Watson's blog probably ten times over, my mom was always rather exasperated as I would go galivanting around the house trying to deduce things. (I was incredibly bad at it)  
And when I was at my most desperate, I tried to contact Sherlock to find out where my father had gone, I realize now how silly the action was. Lucky for me, I never got a reply!

I could feel my heart beat in my chest; my fingers played the corners of my shirt as I walked up the stairs after Corry. My bottom lip was between my teeth in my agitation. What if he wasn't there? What if he was often off on cases? What if?  
I swallowed, trying to focus I looked down at the stairs, watching them go past me the farther I walked. My gaze was suddenly aimed towards the door at the top of the stairs at the sound of a violin screeching, I gave a quizzical yet also excited look at Corry at that sound.  
She wrinkled her nose, stopping to reposition the plastic bags that hung from her arms. I took the time to pull down my shirt and tighten my long black ponytail.

Corry took a deep breath before pushing the door open and we both stepped in.  
The first thing I saw was Mycroft actually, he was sitting with one leg cross over the other. Fingers to the bridge of his nose, his umbrella hanging off of one of his arms.  
The next of course was Sherlock, who stood by the window gazing outside at the London traffic, his bow prepped to create another screeching sound off of the strings of his violin. My mouth flew open in a small squeak that I hoped he wouldn't hear. He turned his attention to me and Corry, Mycroft did the same though I barely took notice nor did I much care. I swallowed with difficulty as Sherlock looked me over quickly with his cold gray eyes.

"American," I heard Sherlock mutter to himself. Which surprised me more then I thought it would, I hadn't even said anything yet! I looked at Corry with an excited smile and she winked at me, "I brought groceries," she lifted the bags for Sherlock to see, and he gave her a look that said "I have eyes".  
As Corry went back to the kitchen I grabbed the wavy end of my hair and played with it, "I'm uh, I'm Sophia Banks…" I said with a very quiet voice.  
"From Wisconsin," Mycroft told Sherlock, and I frowned at him. Sherlock smirked at me, and my cheeks went pink. How much of my movement was he noticing? Was he still deducing things about me?

I took a deep breath, "I just wanted to tell you that, I'm a bit of a, kind of a…I'm a big fan!"  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  
"I wasn't aware that you had _fans_ Sherlock," Mycroft said with a light smile. I glared at him this time, wrinkling my rather small nose.  
Corry walked over to me, whispering, "Don't go into the fridge," into my ear. I didn't need to be told, I had read about the various body parts that Sherlock has kept in his kitchen over the years.  
Mycroft stood up, pulling the umbrella off of his arm and using it as a cane, "Perhaps I should come back later when you are less…Busy," he said he said with a cold humor in his voice. Sherlock scowled at him darkly, "You do that."  
I gave a soft chuckle, which had the eldest Holmes glance at me with his own pair of perhaps even colder seemingly dead gray eyes. I quickly stuck out my tongue-because I could- at him as he left.

I was startled by Corry's Cell Phone ringing, she was too, but recovered quickly and began to grope around in her pockets for her phone, "Oh dear," she mumbled to herself, finally able to free the cell phone, "It's my mum, I have to go," she gave me a sad look. I stiffened, "Can I stay here?"  
I asked her. Corry shrugged, "I suppose, if it's ok with Mr. Holmes," she cocked her head towards him. Sherlock didn't answer as he put his violin away, I couldn't see his face even when I searched for it.

Corry hugged me before she left, "Mr. Holmes," I heard her mutter when she was outside the door. I didn't have long to think about it before Mycroft reentered the room, "Sherlock," he said in a somewhat terse tone of voice, I barely noticed the slightly worried expression he wore.  
I wanted him to go away so badly, he was annoying and nothing but a nuisance to Sherlock! I looked over at my hero when a soft groan escaped him. He bent over and grabbed at the windowsill for support but it seemed as though that wasn't going to work.

That was when Sherlock collapsed.

"Mr. Holmes!" I cried running to him, he had lost consciousness! I desperately checked for a heartbeat, I was too distracted to hear Mycroft call for an ambulance.

"Mr. Holmes, Sherlock, it's ok, you're going to be ok…Please be ok," I whispered mostly to convince myself. Finally I was able to hear it, slow and labored as it was his heart was still beating.  
"Miss Banks I would urge you to step away from him," Mycroft said coldly, I shook my head, "No!" I shouted at him. He knelt down by my side taking Sherlock's wrist, taking his pulse. I sniffled, "He's alive," I could feel the tears form as desperation took hold, even with the news that he was still with us.  
He nodded, "An ambulance will arrive shortly, " he said, "Now please do as I ask!"  
I brief show of anger made me stiffen, I couldn't leave him on the floor like that, I couldn't just sit on the couch and stare down at him while my hero struggled to breath!

A slim hand touched my wrist, and I looked at Mycroft's pale fingers for a few moments.  
I pulled away quickly after I had recovered, and moved to the couch crossing my arms over my chest. Mycroft didn't seem to notice, his gaze roving over his brother as he continued to kneel.  
(Little did I know how rare it was for him to get onto the floor, and that touch was never a big thing with him)

Not much later-though it felt like hours to me- the paramedics arrived and I watched as they took Sherlock away. Mycroft didn't go with them, instead climbing into his own vehicle and going the opposite direction!  
I felt sick to my stomach, how quickly something so great could take a turn for the worst! I hugged my arms, looking at nothing but the sidewalk.

As I stood there, unable to move without throwing up, I thought about what had just happened. Which lead to me thinking about Mycroft.  
And though _now_ I feel that I was being a bit harsh and I knew little about the situation-

I hated him!

**Hey,**

**Would like more? Just say so and I shall put together my recollection of my ****_second_**** encounter with Mycroft.**

**Perhaps you are interested in what made our friendship, or perhaps you want to know what had happened to Sherlock.**

**I'd like to know ;)**

**(Any mistakes made I would appreciate that they be pointed out, thanks a bunch!)**


End file.
